


You Would Be Calling Me Moony

by Remus_la_swearwolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, Bring Back Black, Dark Ending, Department of Mysteries, Dreams, Drinking, First War with Voldemort, Flashbacks, Grimmauld Place, M/M, Memories, Mourning, Sirius Black Lives, Time Travel, Time Turner, remus sees sirius in dreams, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remus_la_swearwolf/pseuds/Remus_la_swearwolf
Summary: A month after Sirius falls through the Veil, Remus starts seeing Sirius in his dreams. But they're only dreams...right?
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31
Collections: Remus Lupin Fest 2020





	You Would Be Calling Me Moony

Remus smiles, softly and sleepily, but doesn't open his eyes. He can feel the warm, heavy, golden weight of the newly-risen sun playing on his eyelids, and the heavier weight of a warm arm flung carelessly across his middle. The pillow is soft beneath his cheek, and so is the raven hair that winds its way across the linen and tickles his nose.

"Pads," he whispers, his voice still sleep-rough. "Pads. Gotta wake up soon. S'nearly midday, and I'm sure Harry's written --"

He pauses, feeling frozen as a sudden, cold, dead weight seems to settle itself on his shoulders instead of Sirius' arm. Something dreadful has happened, and Remus can't for the life of him remember what it is, but his heart creaks and groans under the force of it, and a river of ice seems to have found its way into all the empty hollows and corners of him. He'll never be warm again.

The sun has fled from his face and he knows something is terribly, terribly wrong.

He forces his eyes open, but his vision is clouded and misty, and for a minute, he's blind. It's terrifying. He blinks rapidly, until the fogginess is gone somewhat, and he can see a little. It's not what he expected. He blinks again.

This isn't a place he's ever been before, awake or asleep, and it doesn't feel . . . right. Like there's nothing there, or it's just emptiness.

It's big, and white, and cold and empty, but not the sort of cold and empty he's used to. The silence is ringing, yet comforting in a way, and the emptiness is peaceful. He doesn't even mind the cool fog that seems to swirl around his fingertips, accumulating in the air, and clinging to the corners of everything, where there should be shadows.

There's no darkness here, and technically speaking there isn't really even light; everything just seems to merge in with each other, blend and melt and smudge into one, great big amalgamation of nothingness. And he knows he's seen it before. 

He's heard the whispers that echo around this place before, indistinct and fleeting as they are, only this time, if he closes his eyes and wishes as hard as he can, they're familiar in a way that he doesn't quite know.

The whispers get closer and closer, and the words they form writhe their way around in Remus's mind, slowly coming into focus, although they remain vague and indecipherable, as they always have been. The whispers strike him in a way he's never quite been struck before, and fill him with an acute sense of loss that he still can't place. 

And they say his name.

His eyes snap open, and he almost recoils in shock at what he's seen. Grey eyes surrounded by a long, thick fringe of lashes surround his field of vision, framed by long, silken strands of jet black hair. The scent of it fills Remus's nostrils, and encompasses him with an overwhelming sense of familiarity and comfort that he hasn't truly felt in months. This is what he's lost; this is what's been playing on Remus's mind for so long, why this life he's been living these past few months hasn't really been living, if that's what he has to call it.

He allows himself to think a name, a thought, a face that's been forbidden to him for months for fear of breaking and falling apart at a pivotal time like this, when breaking and falling to pieces is the one thing he can't allow himself to do, because if he allows himself to then everything else falls apart. It's selfish and weak, but it's what he wants most right now.

Sirius.

The sound of it echoing around his mind jolts through his body like an lightning strike, only perhaps this is the more agonising of the two. Hands rest on either side of his face, and he can see nothing else. He gasps, and staggers back, refusing to allow himself this. He doesn't deserve this, not after everything he's done, and everything he's been through. 

His eyes burn and his vision blurs as he falls to the ground, and he doesn't bother trying to get up, devastation hitting him like a blow as he remembers, remembers it all in excruciating clarity, every moment of his life before, flashing before his eyes like a photograph, except that every image burns into his brain like a brand of fire behind his eyelids or like he's been staring at the sun for too long, and they all stay with him even after they fade. 

They're not all bad, the memories. They start off as good memories, in fact. He's eleven and unsure, and he's convinced that he doesn't belong on this train, off to somewhere where he'll be hated and reviled for what he is. He's sure he'll be discovered if he dares to befriend any of these young wizards and witches, whose shining futures stretch out ahead of them, waiting. So he doesn't speak when they burst into his little bubble of self-pitying solitude in his carriage. 

And he doesn't have to. Their words and laughter fill up the silence he's created for himself, and soon he's laughing along with them, falling in as one of them, until he can't remember what he was so scared of in the first place.

And then it's Second year, and he thinks it's all over. His friends know his dark secret, and it's all over for him, and can he really even call them his friends right now? He isn't sure they'd want him to. He knows he certainly doesn't deserve it. Because how could an animal like him ever hope to be one of them?

A hand is raised above Remus's face, and he flinches like the dog he's sure he is, to be beaten and whipped like he knows he deserves. He closes his eyes and waits for it in sick and twisted anticipation, only it never comes. A soft and reassuring weight rests on his shoulder, and finally Remus dares to open his eyes. 

It's the summer after Remus's Fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he'd never thought he'd have come this far. Times have been steadily growing darker and darker, but his holiday has been quiet so far, until James's owl arrives. Remus reads the letter with a white face, and holds it in a grip so tight that he's surprised he hasn't ripped the parchment to utter shreds. He leaves the house without a word to his parents, who call after him and try to follow him. He can't speak, but he summons the Knight Bus, and rides in silence, until he arrives at Godric's Hollow and bursts into the Potter house and rushes up the stairs where he knows Sirius will be, without even a greeting to James, who opens the door and watches as Remus runs with a grim and pale face.

Remus crashes through the door, his chest heaving and burning, and he stares stricken at the bloodied and bruised boy whose eyes gaze ahead numb, unseeing. A surge of fury stronger than any bloodlust or rage the Wolf has ever made him feel blasts over Remus, but it's also of protectiveness. That woman had laid a hand on Sirius again. 

He sinks down on the floor beside the broken boy with the deep blue-black bruises under his dulled grey eyes, and he doesn't say a word as he holds him, tighter than he's ever held anyone in his life, as if he's the only one holding his pieces together. 

Sirius is shaking beneath him, until Remus realises he's shaking as well, and the tell-tale cold shivering trail down his cheek makes Remus dab at the wetness beneath his eyes. He wonders at what point it was when he'd started crying. He doesn't remember. 

A choking, rasping noise comes from the shaking mess in his embrace, and it takes Remus a while to understand what Sirius is saying to him. " 'M sorry, Moony,' he hears, hoarse and forced as it is, coming from Sirius's bruised lips. " 'M sorry for it all. I never meant any of it. Never meant to hurt you -- just want you back and --"

"Shh . . ." Remus whispers into the dark, already knowing everything that Sirius has to say, and already forgiving him for it all. Sirius had always been forgiven in his books, even from the very start. The wave of fury and protectiveness has ebbed to allow another emotion to take its place, and it crashes and breaks over Remus in a way that is a thousand times stronger and more gentle than the first wave. Remus thinks that it's always been there, in a way, only like the tide, it ebbs and surges forth under the pull and push of the moon. "I know," he says, just as sure as he is in the knowledge that this feeling won't ever fade.

The next few years pass like a blur of golden memories and smudged colours. James falls for Lily, and although Sirius maybe isn't his number one priority anymore, he's still happy for them. His new parents -- whom the Sirius loves more than he ever did his parents -- keep asking him if he's found someone, and if he's ever going to settle down, but he smiles and shakes his head, perfectly content as he is. 

Graduation comes around, and leaving Hogwarts feels like leaving the only home they've both ever had. They spend a good deal of time lazing around by the Black Lake in the hazy summer heat, remniscing over good times long gone, when everything was simpler and there was no war, and also, of course, a lot of time is wasted snogging shamelessly in front of the group despite James's fervent protestations, and Lily's indulgent laughter.

Remus has never forgotten how he first felt when Sirius walked him up those stairs, hands over his eyes, throwing open the door to that homely little flat in central London, where they would really start to begin their lives. It's the moment when it all clicks into place; when he looks into the silver of Sirius's eyes, and finally realises that he really is it for Sirius. 

It's the beginning of everything, but it's also the beginning of the end.

There is a war going on around the boys and their new found-family, and although it casts a darkness on everything, it hasn't managed to reach their own hearts yet, illusioned as they are that all the people who fill the empty and grey spaces in their hearts are safe.

And then it all comes crashing down, and the crumbling pillars which Remus has based his life on turn to dust. 

Sirius is standing by the window, in their now cold, dingy little apartment, holding a letter bearing the crest of his family, none of whom have written to him ever since that fateful day when he was disowned and threatened with death should he ever return. 

It's covered in the tight, sharp script of his mother. The Sirius's face is pale, and the letter drops from his hands as he sinks to the floor, nails digging into his cheeks as he tries to find an outlet for his agony. 

It's his brother. The coward who joined the Death Eaters because he was too afraid to say no, and paid with his life when he tried to leave. Except was he the coward, or was it his elder brother?

Remus can see the images that are flashing through his grey eyes, can feel his pain as he hears his brother sobbing and begging him not to leave him in that house, all alone, the day Walburga Black screamed so loud that the walls shook, and dust fell from the rafters.

He knows Sirius thinks it's his fault. He abandoned his brother when he was weak, and now his brother has paid the ultimate price for his crimes.

Sirius screams and sobs into his James's shoulder, and James says nothing, but allows him to grieve, kicking and punching until his limbs give out, and his once silver eyes are grey and misted over with unshed tears. 

Remus wishes he could be the one to hold Sirius, but no, it isn't him, it never was, and it was always James for Sirius, he sees. Remus is Sirius's consolation prize; the marauder that Sirius could have, and worst of all now, Sirius thinks there is a spy.

Time goes by, and although the pain hasn't grown less, fading memories take the edge off, as do the empty bottles of whisky that line the floor of the Sirius's empty apartment. Remus has left, he can't take it anymore, and he thinks he'll break apart at the next sharp word or curse to spew from the lips of somebody he thinks he must have loved once. 

Except that he does still love him, and that's why it hurts so bad. He's bleeding and broken after every full moon, and Sirius won't come, either because he can't or because he doesn't want to. And now, because of the spy, James and Lily are in hiding. Nothing's been said, but by the way Sirius is acting, Remus knows he isn't welcome in that little house he once called home in Godric's Hollow. And he knows that everyone had seen the end coming. 

Everything is darker now, in the shadow of the war, and they can longer drink their way through pubs or play games with each other to ignore the war, because it won't let itself be ignored. It is a living, sentient creature that breathes, and eats and devours -- it could live forever on the blood of his loved ones, and the hearts of lost men. And it never sleeps.

Remus watches as slowly, slowly the man he had and still loves sharpens and hardens into a man who no longer smiles the way he used to, and has lost the mischievous light to his eyes. 

He's grown apart from his friends, even though he would still trust all of them with his life and would die for any of them except him, but arguments are common, and the lurking fear in everyone's mind ensures that every word has the potential to turn into a fight.

Harry's born, and for a while, Remus is welcomed back into James and Lily's lives, although Sirius watches suspiciously from behind corners and doors, and makes his presence known and menacing. The snide werewolf remarks don't stop either.

And then the day comes. The day, that in this horrific flashback of Remus's, although he's still aware that he's trapped in that cold empty void with that thing that thinks it's Sirius, he's been dreading more than any other.

James and Lily are dead, and although the grief is overwhelming, Remus can't help but feel some sort of savage satisfaction that everyone knows they were wrong about him. 

He watches as Sirius runs to the scene when he hears of it, not daring to believe that James, his James is dead, and oh God, not Lily as well -- because who was here to hold his pieces together now that he was falling apart again? 

His grief makes him young again, and he collapses by Lily and James's slain bodies like a child, with their glassy eyes and desperate faces, and he begs for their forgiveness, knowing that their deaths are owing to his stupidity and foolishness. He weeps for what seems like hours, calling their names, and pounding the floor with weak fists, screaming until his throat is raw. 

At last, he notices the crying infant, still alive somehow in the cradle, unheard as he wallowed in his own selfish grief. 

He hears voices outside, and he knows how it looks for him, so he presses a kiss to the child's forehead, and promises he'll be back for him. As he leaves, he kneels by James's body to close his eyes, and he whispers, "Goodbye, brother," for the second time.

At least, this is what he shows Remus in a memory, years later. But Remus stands firm in his conviction of Sirius's guilt, and the whole ordeal is devastating, but a weight off his shoulders, tension that had to be released at some point springing from their deaths like a leak.

The traitor. Sirius hunts him down, and attacks him with magic so furious and powerful that it's almost Dark. Curse after curse is lashed out at the betrayer, the fat little boy so overlooked by everybody that they thought he couldn't possibly be the traitor. 

He's screaming, and sobbing, his eyes are red, and almost black with fury and anguish as he roars, "Why?" and fires another curse. 

The traitor laughs, and waves his wand at the street, exploding the buildings and tearing a deep hole into the road, and vanishes into the gutter like the rat he is. All that's left behind is a bloody finger. 

Sirius is left alone in the empty and destroyed street, sagging in misery, and laughing insanely with his eyes streaming as the dementors close in on him, rotted hands stretching from beneath tattered capes, and the stink of what's cast a shadow over the boy all his life emanating from the hood, and forcing him to relive his childhood, the betrayal of his younger brother, and the death of both of them, all at once. 

They lift the laughing man into the air, with their clawed and slimy hands and his soul is pulled forcibly out of his body and pushed back in, and Remus watches numbly and tells himself they're right although something in him knows it's wrong.

He's dragged to Azkaban, a great big, grey prison out in the middle of the sea, the only noises to heard the crashing of the iron grey water against the stony walls and the screams of the damned. 

Only Sirius knows he's innocent. They hadn't even given him a trial. He clings onto the belief that he didn't betray James and Lily to the Dark Lord, but at heart he knows it was the Black in him that always would have destroyed them.

Remus knows now he's not in his own memories, but in Sirius's. He sees Regulus, James, Lily, and even Sirius's mother, who died of grief after Regulus's passing, and they all point at Sirius and blame him for their downfall and deaths. As reality becomes harder to distinguish from fantasy, Sirius slips further and further into the clutches of insanity, haunted by torturous visions, Remus feels himself growing more and more tangible. 

The next twelve years pass like a blur. He's alone, for most of it, people he knows from the Order slowly slipping away into normal family life and domesticity and there is no urgency to fight for the right to live anymore. The Potters become the stuff of fairytales and legend, although it isn't quite as easy for Remus to make them into a pretty tale. The world's forgotten about him for now, and in his darkness and despair, he's fine with that. This isn't the life he thought he'd be living. 

And then it all changes. He's back at Hogwarts, his first real home, and maybe it all isn't so dark anymore. It's more painful than anything when James and Lily's son stares at him with that awful blank look in his eyes, because if he hadn't killed them you would be calling me Moony.

It all clicks together finally, when Remus is roaming the castle, falling into the prints he'd left all those years ago, with the Map in his hand, and he sees a name he thought he'd see again, and he realises that everything he's known up to this point is a lie. Remus can see the pain in the Sirius's eyes when the child accuses him of murdering his parents, with fear in his all too-green eyes, and it hurts him, like both Lily and James have returned from beyond the grave, and are blaming him for their deaths. 

Remus stays with him in Grimmauld Place, where Sirius is forced to relive his childhood every second of the day, so he never says anything as the bottles pile up on the floor of Sirius's bedroom, where Remus is rarely, if ever allowed, and the edges of the letters Lily and James had sent to him become more and more smudged and worn.

Remus has always wondered what would have happened if he'd ever encountered Sirius after Azkaban, but in his imagination, it had never happened like this. He'd expected that he would slowly fade into twilight and die alone, perhaps after a rough moon, after a short and otherwise unremarkable life. Now, his encroaching and likely painful future is unknown. He quashes it down, but a part of him knows he still loves Sirius.

It feels all too like the first war, again, as everything rapidly becomes darker, and people start dying again.

A few drinks to honour the dead turn into bottles and bottles of Firewhisky, and Remus doesn't know how he feels when he wakes up the next morning in Sirius's bed. He sits up quickly, ready to run and pretend that it never happened just to stop Sirius from flying into another drink-fueled rage and screaming at Remus for something he can hardly remember. 

But a thin yet warm arm snakes its way around his middle and pins him there. Remus freezes, the breath forced out of his chest as he looks down at the sleeping man beside him, the pale sun filtering through the windows making it all golden. 

"Don't go, Moony," Sirius murmurs against the pillow. "Stay."

He sighs sleepily, and rolls towards Remus. 

His arms tighten around him, and Remus allows himself to be pulled back down beside him, hardly daring to believe what's happening. Maybe this is the real new start for them.

This continues, and Remus starts to think that perhaps it is all worth it. Life isn't quite so dull anymore, and if what they had before wasn't love, then this is. He isn't second to James anymore.

And he's happy. 

Until, of course, the day it happens. Remus knew his fragile luck wouldn't bear this.

Sirius, as always, loves the people in his care, and he loves far too fiercely. Remus knows this -- he's been burned by the heat of it before.

And if Harry is in danger, then there's nothing that will stop Sirius.

They're outnumbered by the bastards in masks who don't dare to show their faces -- out of cowardice or shame Remus doesn't know -- and when Sirius falls, it's to a member of his family, the madwoman with the shattered eyes and the insane cackle. 

He falls towards the veil, and time seems to freeze. In his last moments, he sees his best friend standing there, fighting, and he calls, "Nice one, James!", even though it isn't James, because James is dead and isn't ever coming back. 

Sirius is swallowed up by the smoke, and Remus thinks he sees a small smile on his face as he fades away. He's always lived a tortured life. Maybe at long last, he's with James like he's always wanted.

It's like losing another parent for Harry. Remus watches sadly as the boy shrieks and kicks, trying to follow him into the mist, but Remus holds him back, wishing somebody were there to hold himself back.

They'd talked about getting married, one day. It was a stupid dream, perhaps, or a wild fantasy, because the world they were in would never allow that, but he'd dreamed of dancing with Sirius at his own wedding like they had danced at Lily and James's, much to Petunia's disgust and displeasure.

A shock wave blasts through Remus, and the veil seems to extend itself and wash over him in waves that furl around him like tendrils and tug him in. His eyes are forced open again, and he's staring into Sirius's wide, frantic eyes. "Don't leave me here, Moony," he hears, and his heart stops in his chest as he's falling, falling, falling, and he wakes up in Sirius's bed in Grimmauld Place, face smashed into the pillow which retains Sirius's scent if he tries to believe it hard enough, although the wetness on the cloth washes some of it out.

He closes his eyes for another second, and sits up, reaching for the Potion in the cabinet next to him. This isn't the first time he's dreamt this dream, and he'd do well to remind himself of that. He opens the drawer, but his hand stops before it closes around the neck of the bottle as he scrabbles with the crumpled parchment beneath it. 

He flicks through it, seeing the sharp lines and harsh curves of Sirius's handwriting smudged by tears, and the worn letters of James's messy, round handwriting. Something in him snaps, and he yanks the letters out of the drawer and stuffs them roughly into his pocket. The potion bottle clatters to the ground and spills into the rich carpet, colouring it a deep purple, but he doesn't care.

Somebody clears their throat and he looks up in alarm. It's Tonks, and she's standing there, looking at him with an expression of pity. He hates it. 

It's been months, and she won't leave him alone. He notices with a start that her hair is an uncommon shade of jet black and her eyes are a deep shade of silver. But they aren't the same. 

"Wotcher, Remus?" she asks, tone coloured with sympathy. "Getting on alright?"

Remus runs a hand through his messy hair. "I'm getting along just right, thanks," he mutters. "I'll be down in a minute."

Tonks's mouth twists into a pitying grimace, and she nods, although she lingers. "See you there, then." She disappears.

The Order meeting is the first they've had in months, and Remus is hardly paying attention throughout it all. It's like he's in a daze or a trance, and he hears Sirius calling to him every time he closes his eyes. It's painful, but he smiles dopily. 

Mundungus whispers something into Molly's ear, and she doesn't hex him for the first time as she stares at Remus in concern.

Two hours and three arguments later, the meeting is concluded, and as for the plan, Remus is none the wiser. He gets up wearily to return to his room, perhaps with a drink from Sirius's father's collection, but a firm grip around his wrist stops him.

"Mr Lupin." It isn't a question, it isn't an order, but Remus stops anyway. Minerva McGonagall is speaking to him, and she's the only person Remus wouldn't walk away from right now. Remus is relieved to see there isn't a piteous or worried expression on her stern face.

He stares at her blankly.

"Remus, I'm sure you are aware of the way Nymphadora feels about you. Now, while Miss Tonks is most assuredly a fine young woman . . . I'm not quite sure whether she's the Black for you. There's a package on the table. However you see fit to use the contents is entirely up to you." Without another word, she sweeps regally out of the poorly lit pantry.

Remus takes another look at the array of bottles inviting him to take, to drink, but he shrugs and heads into the kitchen. The drink isn't going anywhere. 

The package is worn and dirty, but Remus doesn't care. He rips it open and a golden locket on a chain falls into his lap. He's seen it before, and finally the mysterious nature of Minerva's words is clear to him. 

He'll save Sirius with the same locket that he'd been saved with before.

He places it around his neck and spins the dial, not knowing how many times, but with only one destination loud in his mind. 

He's in the same place, only a month earlier. And Sirius is there, frantically searching for his wand as Kingsley's patronus fades. "Remus!" he barks. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought I told you to fuck off with her and never come back. You've got some bloody nerve, I'll tell you that --"

There are a thousand thoughts running through Remus's head, but his face is a blank canvas. He reaches forward and covers Sirius's mouth with his hand. Sirius's eyes widen and he tries to push Remus off, but Remus tightens his grip around Sirius's jaw.

"Shh," he says calmly. "The time isn't now. I've just lost you, and I'm not about to do it again."

Sirius's eyes narrow furiously, and his eyes spit a thousand curses at Remus. "Damn bloody right you've lost me, and it's your bloody fault. We haven't got time for this. Harry --"

"Harry, can take care of himself," says Remus, although he knows it's a lie, and what he's doing today changes everything. "You, on the other hand -- you don't know what's best for you. You aren't going."

Sirius struggles against his palm and pushes him off. "What the ruddy hell are you on about -- we have to leave now, now, now -- we'll sort out whatever problem you have after -- He's killing Harry --"

"I know," says Remus flatly. "But I'm not about to let him kill you."

Sirius's voice blares louder in Remus's head and he grits his teeth at the sheer volume of it. Sirius is begging him to save him, and Remus has never done anything if not what Sirius wants. "You'll thank me later," he says, revelling in the fact that he knows it's true.

Sirius breaks free and runs for it. Remus watches him expressionlessly as he almost makes it all the way up the stairs. 

Sirius turns around one last time to look back at him. "You're insane, Remus. Insane!" he barks.

Remus doesn't respond. He lifts his wand slowly. "Petrificus Totalus."

Sirius freezes and topples down the steps. Each thud and crack is sickening, but Remus doesn't flinch as Sirius comes to a rest at his feet, his body battered and bones broken, most likely. He crouches down, and strokes a fly-away bit of Sirius's hair back into his mane. His fingers come away red and sticky.

"I'm sorry, my love," he says softly. "But I couldn't see you die again."


End file.
